


Being Resurrected By Your Murderous Future Wife Is Harder Than It Looks

by helo572



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Cuddling, Episode: s06e08 Let's Kill Hitler, Fainting, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, No Smut, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 06:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6041799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helo572/pseuds/helo572
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coda to 6.08 Let's Kill Hitler. Dying really takes it out of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Being Resurrected By Your Murderous Future Wife Is Harder Than It Looks

**Author's Note:**

> Nice and easy, shameless OT3 fluff I kind of wrote for Valentine's Day two days late. I just love these three together.

After the golden light fades, Rory carries River into the TARDIS, and Amy has to help the Doctor up the remainder of the steps as he sways on his feet.

 

He staggers to the console while Rory checks River over, who he has sprawled out on the landing. Amy hovers behind the Doctor, who is fiddling with the controls, with an ascertainment of his okay-ness on the tip of her tongue.

 

"There's a good hospital in the 28th century, unfortunately _not_ run by humanoid cats, but it's still quite good," he's saying. "They leave you mints on the pillows like the hotels do. Oh, and not to the mention the _wonderful_ water pressure, it's like you're stepping into a high-powered waterfall. A waterfall on steroids."

 

He flicks up the big lever, throwing it forward with visible effort, but recovers by twirling on his heel, his coat dancing around his hips. He sends Amy a wicked grin on his round trip.

 

"It's what's best for her, Pond," he continues. "She needs a bit of me time. To figure out what's going on in that head of hers. She's still very early, very unstable. We don't want to risk interferring, seeing as... well, you know..." He waves his hands around vaguely. "Timelines. Time. Wime. Wibbly-wobbly. Won't be a 'mo, we'll just drop her off."

 

The time rotor groans to a stop, then, he collapses in a dead faint.

 

* * *

 

"Ms Song is in a light coma, presently," one of the green doctors tell them. "And Mr..." He squints at the paper. "... Smith is, simply put, exhausted. He will be up soon, after he has rested and has replenished all of his fluids."

 

* * *

 

 

They spend the next day in alternate rooms, in shifts. The Doctor is in room 111, just down the hall from River, in 106. They swap every two hours.

 

The Doctor wakes on Rory's shift.

 

"Ah," is the first thing he says.

 

Rory hands him a plastic cup filled with water, which he graciously accepts and uses to wash down his dry throat.

 

"How are you feeling?"

 

"Rather... hmm... cozy, actually." He turns to look at Rory, mushing his face into the pillow. He blinks at him, and then scans the room, frowning. "Oh, this is new," he remarks. "A hospital bed. I haven't had a bed in a while. Has it got one of those up-and-downy things? With the buttons?"

 

Rory presents him with the remote control. The Doctor grins like it's Christmas.

 

"Don't break it," the nurse warns, "please. We forged all of your papers. I don't know what a thousand Unhs is, in earth dollars, but it sounds expensive."

 

The Doctor is too enticed with the buttons. The bed is now L-shaped, so the Doctor is sitting up. He's still grinning at Rory.

 

"Mr Pond, this is so _cool_!" he announces. He lowers the bed back down flat again. Rory rolls his eyes. "Really, you didn't have to. You're too kind, you and Amy. Thank you. This is _exactly_ what I wanted for Christmas. A up-and-downy bed! You two!"

 

"You died," Rory points out.

 

"Temporarily," the Doctor adds. "Back now. All good. Everything's working. The ol' body just had a bit of a shutdown, a bit of a restart to check all of the diagnostics, if you like. I'm fine. Really, you didn't have to. The TARDIS would have been fine, just had to leave me horizontal..." He trails off, because Rory is still staring at him, his mouth set into a line. "I'm sorry," he apologizes.

 

The nurse's resolve crumples. "No, Doctor, it's not that. We were _worried_ about you."

 

"I'm absolutely fine, Mr Pond. I assure you. Cross my hearts," the Doctor assures, complete with a smile touching his face, and a soft look in his eyes.

 

Rory smiles back.

 

* * *

 

 

"Nuh-uh! You are staying one more night!" declares Amelia Pond, at the Doctor's beside, with her hands planted firmly onto her hips. "I don't care what you say, raggedy man, you scared the beegeebies out of me! First, you died, which was _completely_ inconsiderate, then you go and faint on me. In the middle of flying the TARDIS!"

 

"We _had_ landed," the Doctor argues in return. "I think we landed. Did we land? I don't seem to remember."

 

Amy gestures to him in a there-you-have-it gesture, eyes on Rory, who gives a sigh. "Alright, _fine_ ," the nurse agrees. "One more night, Doctor. Just to make sure you're alright."

 

"I am! I'm fine!"

 

Amy quiets him with a look.

 

* * *

 

 

That night, Amy can't sleep. She's in her bed on the TARDIS, and Rory is curled around her, snoring softly.

 

She soon finds herself in the Doctor's room, where she slides under the covers with him, pressing her back into his chest. It takes a few moments, but he mumbles, "Amy," and wiggles closer, holding her around the waist. "Rory?"

 

"Is right here," he mumbles sleepily, and presses himself into the Doctor's other side.

 

There's a small stretch of silence, then the Doctor says, "You know, I haven't done something like this a while, since an old friend. He invited a few friends over, but it was mainly the three of us. Him, myself and one his colony friends." He lets out a satisfied hum. "And this is good, now, too, of course," he adds in clarification. Amy can't help but smile a little. "A Doctor-Pond sandwich. Very cozy. And new. Did I say something? I honestly don't remember. But it really is quite nice, very... yes... nice. Nice."

 

Rory huffs in amusement, tickling down the side of the Doctor's neck. "I'm – we're – glad you're alive." Amy hums in agreement. The Doctor tucks her head under his chin.

 

The room quiets again; comfortably this time, after Rory lets out a sleepy sigh and resigns himself as the ultimate big spoon.

 

Amy drifts off soon after. She hears the Doctor murmur, "The diary, oh, I'm so  _stupid_ ," and then she's blissfully warm, and has everything she's ever wanted.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading :*)


End file.
